


Goddamn it Enjolras 3: Putain, Enjolras!?

by AdrenalineRevolver



Series: Goddamnit Enjolras [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Marius, Emotional Baggage, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Falling In Love, M/M, Minor Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Minor reference to some shitty kids being mean to a dog, Montparnasse is my favorite plot device, This was emotional to write, background Jehanparnasse, i accidentally the whole apollo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 02:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/AdrenalineRevolver
Summary: Grantaire falls in love, with the man he loves.





	Goddamn it Enjolras 3: Putain, Enjolras!?

After Grantaire had almost finished cleaning up and getting his heart rate to return to normal Enjolras came out of his room looking grimly determined. 

“Come with me to dinner tonight.” It was an order rather than an invitation.

“Excuse me?” Grantaire almost dropped the plate.

“Cosette and Marius are going to dinner and she said I could join them if I had a date. Combeferre has a paper due on Monday and Courferyac said I had to “expand my horizons” whatever the hell that means.” 

Grantaire pretends it doesn’t sting that he’s Enjolras’ third choice. “You’re in no shape to go out tonight. Why do you have it in for Marius anyway?”

“I have nothing against him.” It’s a bad lie even for Enjolras. 

“The truth shall set you free my friend.” He sets the dish down in the sink and leans against the countertop. 

“He can pick up any subject to a decent degree in an impressive timeframe. He’s kind despite having his shitty grandfather as a guardian. Pontmercy is all sorts of wonderful things.” Enjolras waves his hand in the air to punctuate it. 

“But?” Grantaire can’t help but grin knowing Enjolras will bite down.

“He threw rocks into our garden with love notes attached to them. He had her facebook Grantaire, and I believe he had her number. But no, he forgot how to function and threw rocks into the garden. ” He hides his face as if it’s his own shameful story.

“Holy shit.” Grantaire’s grin is now practically from ear to ear. 

“Do you understand how bad you have to be at basic social interactions for me to be this embarrassed on your behalf? I want to kill him as a mercy and myself to get rid of the memory. How can a man learn basic Spanish in a semester and not know how to interact with other human beings? He is a fine person but occasionally out of no-where he will just provide some sort of awful secondhand embarrassment that’s on par with chewing glass because I guess he grew up reading books in a white box until he was twenty.” Enjolras digs his hands in his hair as he’s forced to relive the ‘To be free’ incident.

“No wonder Courferyac adopted him. That’s just..sad.” He shakes his head as he can practically see Courf decide the socially inept kid is his now after some disastrous first encounter. The man is weak for troublesome things. First it was the ugly little kitten that gave Joly ringworm, then Gavroche who is a bit more of a welcome fungus, and now Marius who seems to be killing their leader by degrees.

“She sounds really fond of him Grantaire. Grantaire what if I have to spend every holiday with him, he’ll be so well intentioned as he trips over the goddamn decorations and manages to set something on fire.” His eyes are wide with panic. 

“So, you don’t dislike him. You’re just terrified of the potential reality he represents.” He tries not to imagine Marius and Enjolras trying to get along over Christmas, if Enjolras even celebrates that he’s never asked. Enjolras’ dad is pretty catholic though.

“Yes! You see there’s a brain under that booze somewhere! Please come with me.” Enjolras sounds desperate.

“You being completely right doesn’t make you well enough to go. Maybe Jehan can go. He could bring that little shit he’s probably going to go to jail for.” Little shit with his knives and his hair gel.

“Ah, Montparnasse isn’t as bad as he makes himself out to be. Unless you mean his age which he should be fine in a few months.” Enjolras waves it off. 

“That asshole almost stabbed me for bus money he-“ Grantaire stops himself short and stares at Enjolras who still seems distracted. 

“What?” Enjolras asks when he notices him staring.

“I never told you his name. I just found out about them being together maybe a week ago and Jehan’s under the impression that he’s “fine” now, whatever that means. How do you know him?” He feels like he may get a headache any moment.

“Oh it’s not important.” Enjolras seems to want to drop it. 

“It’s pretty damn important.” What the hell is going on?

“It’s really not.” He’s insistent about leaving it alone. 

“Enjolras he carries a knife and-“

“Was the handle blue?” Enjolras interrupts him.

“What?” Grantaire looks around as if the room could somehow explain the question.

“The knife he threatened you with. Was the handle blue? Or did it have a rose on it?” Enjolras folds his arms the same way he does whenever he’s won an argument.

“It was dark but I think it was blue? Solid color at least.”

“Then he’s still full of shit. That thing is a prop he stole from somewhere. The blade retracts in and he can make it look like he’s stabbed someone. It’s even got a space where you can put fake blood in it. Since it’s still metal it actually hurts if he hits you in the gut with it so people think they’ve been more hurt than they have. That’s the knife he pulls on people he doesn’t want to risk killing. That just meant he wanted your money but if you had really told him to fuck off and acted like you were going to hit him or call the cops he would make a show of supposedly ‘sparing’ you because he’s an overdramatic dipshit. The one with the rose on the hilt is real. Anytime he stoops to mugging someone he’s hoping for someone easily intimidated or disinterested enough that they toss him some cash and he can split. He didn’t want your wallet or your cards, just some cash because he probably forgot his wherever he’s posted up now and is too proud to go back and get it.” Enjolras can’t help but be a little disappointed that Monty’s still doing that shit; someone could report him or worse.

That sounded scarily accurate. “Okay…but how do you know him?” The memory from the party replays in his head again. Just how lucky had Eponine’s dad gotten?

Enjolras sighs and looks tired again. “Remember that fight I mentioned with the cops?”

“Yeah?”

“I ended up enrolled in some youth thing. It was meant to be anger management I think but the people running it didn’t really care about us. He was there too. We kind of bonded.” 

“You two were friends?” He sounds stunned.

“Well um.” Enjolras glances away.

“More than that?”

“I didn’t date him if that’s what you’re asking but he was my closest friend other than my sister.” They had kissed a few times. Quiet things in the dark, pretending it was practice when really it was comfort. 

“H-How?” Grantaire can’t quite imagine the vain brat and Enjolras being able to stand each other. Enjolras was wonderful, a decent attempt at perfect when he wasn’t being a twit.

“The same things pissed us off. We were mad that the adults didn’t seem to care. We were mad that our birth parents weren’t there. We were mad that we both had to have a weapon of some kind because we were apparently a bit too attractive to be safe at our age. The biggest difference was the way we coped. I viciously fought to make things better and sometimes it just felt like he viciously fought. But he’s got his own weird code of conduct in there that makes him generally harmless.” He wondered if Monty still dressed like a wannabe vampire from a young adult novel or if he now pretended he didn't have that phase. 

“Which is?”

“Well he was always pissed when people messed up something that was visually appealing. Spray-painting a concrete wall didn’t bother him in he slightest but he’d complain if it was a historic building or one that he thought looked interesting. Same thing applied to people more or less. Normal death didn’t move him much but if it was a celebrity or a painter he might actually comment on it. He also prefers an almost fair fight. He has the upper hand because he’s armed or smarter but not because he’s just blatantly taking advantage, it makes him feel like he’s just taking what he’s owed rather than doing something wrong. Sometimes if he did something he actually regretted he would go on a bender of vigilantism. That’s a fun text to get. 'Hey Blondie you have a new dog, don’t ask.' And you find a tortured dog in your backyard with a note clipped to its bandages telling you to watch the news. Then you see on the news that mysteriously these three schoolboys all had their noses broken and can’t remember what happened. Asshole was risking it with that one. Though I'm sure Parfait is more than thrilled that he risked going to jail for beating up children for her.” Enjolras’ impression of Montparnasse’s tone is actually pretty good; he’s done this before, Grantaire notes. 

“Kind of sounds like your method of coping just a bit more…stabby.” Or less controlled. Also, Enjolras had a dog named Parfait? Well he guesses that's right, he had seen pictures of Cosette with a three legged mix breed. It was just your average short haired street dog, in flower crowns and with lipstick kiss prints on its muzzle. Somehow it never clicked that that was Enjolras' dog too. 

“Huh?”

“Well it seems like he’s trying to make things better. Just in his own way. You two are pretty similar.” Grantaire echoes the prior conversation about his father absolutely on purpose.

Enjolras grimaces. “Yeah probably.”

“Oh okay wow, I didn’t expect sudden acceptance.” Grantaire blinks in surprise.

“I spent years as his friend. For two of those years I shared a bed with him off and on because his foster parents didn’t want him around. Even if we didn’t have a similar situation we would have ended up with similarities because of how much time we spent together.” 

“What um. What happened?” Lets play this game again. 

“Mostly it was just me going to school. Learning to focus my temper as much as I could on the issues. We grew apart. He’s also frustrated by you.”

“Me?”

“And the others. He didn’t mind being second to my father and my sister but the meetings? Being second to people he had never met? People who he knew would look down on him? That pissed him off.” He can’t help but feel guilty about that. 

“Oh.” Grantaire wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“In the end it wasn’t really anything dramatic. We still text occasionally, which is why I knew he was with Jehan, and sometimes I like to think that we’ll become close again but I’ve changed enough that he’ll have to too. When I look at how he was always decent around Cosette, how he saved Parfait to begin with, and how he seems to want to do things right with Jehan I think there’s a chance. But I don’t know. I’m worried if I’m around him until I’m sure we’ll just make each other worse. Montparnasse and I probably just aren’t good for each other.” It always felt weird to call him by his full name, well “name”. It felt like yesterday that Monty had threatened to cut him if he ever shortened it, so naturally it was the first thing he did. Monty had called him Blondie ever since and they both claimed to hate the nicknames. Grantaire slamming his hand against his own forehead pulled him out of his memories.

“God…Goddamn it Enjolras. Goddamn it Enjolras! Why do you just sit on everything? What else is there? How many more tragic backstories? You’re not dying, right? You do understand that half of the reason that people have friends is to spread this shit around so it doesn’t kill them, right?” As he raises his voice Enjolras looks struck and he wants to actually die. He can’t believe he’s actually losing it over this. He’s never been more relieved to see contempt fly across Enjolras’ face. 

“Brave words from someone who kills himself by degrees to avoid the same thing. Drink yourself half to death so many times that it’s hardly even frightening when you just don’t show up to places anymore and I only get to find out a possible reason because I’m tired enough to bare every scar I have. So what if I want to carry some shit on my own? If I don’t my friends will waste all their time worrying about things they can’t change. Combeferre staying up all night to look at alternate medications doesn’t make me magically well. You drinking another fucking shot won’t bring my mother back. Joly developing another psychosomatic illness won’t make the way I was treated as a kid go away. Bahorel neglecting his studies even more wont make everything with Monty alright again.” He knows it’s cruel but he could be so much crueler. Enjolras knows at this point that his tongue is a sword and he would rather cut it out than ask Grantaire the easy painful question of what his father would think of him drinking himself into an early grave. Though the thought is there and makes him want to scream. 

“I get that you want to mart-“

“If you don’t get me off that fucking pedestal I’m going to use my sore, crippled, hands to beat you to death.” He can’t handle this shit today. 

“Enjolras-“

“ _To death._ The single, solitary, thing that is superior about you when drunk is that you manage to get me off of that fucking pedestal and treat me like any other person you want to embarrass. I’m not whatever you’ve decided I am. I’m not perfect. In case you haven’t noticed I’m quite literally an ex-delinquent who got afraid that he was going to give the only adult that never neglected or hit him a heart attack. I’m not perfect even in some ridiculous counter culture way. On top of being a consistently angry contrarian I’m a bit of a hypocrite. I sleep on silk sheets and even if we brought down the bourgeoisie tomorrow you could pry them from my cold dead hands. I like to try and console myself by reminding myself that they’re a gift but they are quite literally silk sheets. I champion all these good and wonderful like treating people decently yet when I see Marius speak to my sister I want to crush him like an insect for having the audacity to remind me that eventually she’ll leave me.” His eyes fill with tears but he continues. 

“Like Mother was forced to, like Monty pretty much has, like my father might. Then I’ll be left with no one but my friends who will only hurt themselves on my behalf until they too have to leave. Like you’re going to when you inevitably get alcohol poisoning one night. You never stop and think about the five, six, ten calls you get when you’re just fucking gone. It’s because people think you’re dead. They think you’ve drunken yourself to death or committed suicide. And by they I mean me. Every fucking time. It’s fucking exhausting. Everyone always laughs it off like ‘oh that Grantaire probably off drunk somewhere' but I can’t do that. I can’t even pretend to do that. All I can pretend to be is angry rather than scared.” Enjolras knows he has to end this. 

“Do you know how infuriating it is to see you worship the ground I walk on? Just now when you where going to go on about something stupid like me martyring myself do you know what I was thinking? About how easy it would be to cut your fucking heart out with a single question and how I desperately didn’t want to because I care about you. Idiotic I know seeing as you don’t give a damn about yourself. Unfortunately I’m not like Monty. My knives aren’t in my fucking pocket they’re in my goddamn mouth. I can write a hell of a speech thanks to that and even move the masses but I can also probably kill people Grantaire. I’m not this wonderful perfect godly person. I’m barely a good person. If anything I’m a dick who’s using that to try and make things better.” A few tears were falling down his splotchy red face and his breathing was ragged.

Between the paleness caused by the medication, the lighting, and the positioning of his clothing Grantaire could see a few scars on Enjolras that he’d somehow never noticed before. One on his right shoulder seemed like it was a cut. One near his hip looked like it could be an old burn. His knees and fingers were slightly swollen from the arthritis. Grantaire also couldn't help but notice that bottom lip had indentions from where he had been gnawing on it while arguing with is sister. Enjolras was a touch too thin, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his curly golden hair was more in a wild mess than a well-kept halo. He was gorgeous. 

It was like watching someone take a sledgehammer to a priceless sculpture or burn a painting. It was the most sacrilegious, beautiful, thing Grantaire had ever seen. The man in front of him was both someone he intimately knew and a complete stranger. He wanted to know more.

Grantaire opened his mouth to say something, to apologize maybe. Or maybe he intended to ask why he had never seen these things. He wasn’t really sure. All that tumbled out was a weak and awestruck:

_“I love you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow half way through this I accidentally viciously took a hammer to Grantaire's apollo thing and it was the most cathartic thing. Oops.
> 
> The next installment just might wrap things up. Maybe. Hope you like it! If you see some glaring grammar issues feel free to let me know.


End file.
